“They will arrive at dawn as promised.”
“Thank you.” Zander clasps hands with Rengard. “You are on the right side of this.”
“Time will tell. Hopefully, I am not on the dead side of it, and that you know what you are doing.” Rengard’s gaze flitters over mine again before he turns. A quick order to his guards frees two more horses for us.
I move for one, assuming I’m relegated to Jarek’s care again, but a firm hand seizes my biceps. Zander steers me toward his horse. “In the front” is all he says and then waits, his face steely. A sure sign that he is furious.
“I didn’t have a choice. He was going to kill the kid.” I mount.
“And now we have another stray. One who may be intent on killing us.” Zander is behind me in the saddle in the next second. Despite the tension radiating from his body, it feels comforting to have my body enclosed in his arms as he reaches for the reins.
“He’s just a terrified mortal. I don’t think you have to worry about him.”
“And I do not believe you think at all sometimes.” He mutters something under his breath that I don’t catch. “A noblewoman from Cornwall?”
“What? It’s not like anyone here would know her.” I smile. “They call her the people’s princess.”
“Is that who you’re pretending to be now?”
My smile sours. “I did what I thought was right. I don’t want more people to die because of what Princess Romeria did.”
“Many people will die for what she did. Innocent people. You need to accept that and not risk yourself unnecessarily for one when you can save so many.”
“Gee, thanks for the pep talk,” I snap.
“I am trying to keep you alive.”
“Oh, I know. So you can use me. Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten.” I turn in the saddle to meet his gaze. “By the way, what the hell was that earlier, back in the wall?”
His jaw tenses. “A moment of weakness. It will not happen again.”
“Good.”
He steers our horse forward. We say no more as we move through the square at a steady clip, Pan paired with Abarrane, while Elisaf and Jarek ride solo.
As promised, the guards wave us through without question.
“Jarek, get Loth and meet us at the bridge.” Abarrane’s eyes narrow on the horizon where the sun has dipped. “And make haste. I do not care how powerful that witch is. These hills are not safe for a wagon after dark.”
Jarek takes off to the right, his horse galloping.
“Does no one heed my commands anymore?” Zander roars into the emptiness, turning our horse three hundred and sixty degrees to survey the area around the covered bridge that traverses a narrow river. Lanterns burn on either side of it, tiny beacons to mark the path in the dark.
“Perhaps something happened with the seer,” Elisaf suggests. “Or Zorya may have sensed a threat and decided to keep going. It is a solid hour’s ride by horse. Longer with a wagon.”
“Or she was arrogant enough to assume she could handle a few raiders.”
“I will ride ahead and find them,” Abarrane declares. “They couldn’t have gotten far.”
“And divide us more? No. We will wait here until Jarek and Loth arrive with the horses. It shouldn’t be too much longer.”
“Your Highness,” comes her curt response, laced with disagreement, though she doesn’t voice it. It’s followed by a hiss of, “Stop squirming.”
“I don’t ride horses much, my lady—”
“Commander!”
“I’m sorry, Commander.” Pan pauses. “Hey, why’d you call him Your Highness?”